Percy Jackson Oneshots
by St Pangolin
Summary: Just some random oneshots about kids of different Olympians at various stages in the series. Very exploratory stuff but I might do something with it. Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

"And I think that's everything."

"Gabby, uh -"

"The graffiti in the toilets? Told Miss Price."

"And what about - "

"The soccer team? They've been chosen."

Everyone fell silent, devoid of problems to pile upon Gabby. Fourteen years old, head of the Beecham Middle School Student Council, and clearly having the time of her life. It wasn't that they simply wanted to offload their problems - although some certainly did - it was that she was one of those people who relished the oppurtunity to help, almost to the point of obsession.

"In that case, I think we're all done. See you next meeting!" And as Gabby Dryden slipped outside into the empty hallway, the meeting was abruptly and undeniably over.

Standing outside, Gabby took a deep breath and let out a silent sob. Every time... Could they not solve their problems for themselves? Was it really so hard? It wasn't enough that she had tests left, right and centre to revise for. It wasn't enough that she had to move to high school in a couple of months. It wasn't enough that she was the only thing standing between her mom and eviction from the apartment she called home. No, she had to solve every problem this godforsaken school faced, because nobody else would do it.

After another couple of deep breaths, Gabby started to set off down the corridor, before hesitating. Should she spend what was left of her lunch break revising for that afternoon's Chemistry test, or would she be hassling reception for any more crackers to give mum? No contest. She could face failing an exam. She wasn't quite so sure about letting mom go hungry again.

As Gabby set off down the corridor, she looked around her. You never know when these things might come in useful. Today, the Student Council had been held in the Art Department, so the walls were adorned with pictures of robots or views from windows or still lives or...

Gabby stopped at the end. The sixth-graders project. Make a collage based on a scene from Greek Mythology. Gabby had never really given it much thought, but now... She could have sworn... That rumbling, couldn't be... No. As it turns out, Gabby was right. It wasn't from the collage. It fact she probably wished it had been for at that moment, the tornado arrived.

Of course, Gabby had heard of it. Little else had been on the news for the last few months. But why was it here? It was supposed to be in Colorado right now, so why had it come all the way to Montana? As chunks of plaster and long-forgotten projects swirled around, the air thick with wind and thrown-up dust. And was that... A face? Did the tornado actually have a face?

"I don't understand, why's it here -"

"Quiet, Mitchell , don't let anything slip."

And at that moment, the two newcomers noticed Gabby crouched in a corner.

"Of course," the girl muttered. "Stupid, stupid Katie! You, there, if you want to live, come with us!"

Gabby never really remembered much about what happened next, but she knew the lightning bolt happened very quickly indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

Deep breath. And out... And in... And out of the frying pan... And into the fire... Remember to drop something nice into the campfire... And pray to the gods, making sure to curse Hera... Sit back down at the table again... Start eating... And curse mom again for good measure.

Most kids live worry about whether they'll pass a spelling test, or whether the school bully'll duff them up, or the demigods out there worry if a monster will do that instead. Not George. George lived in constant fear that he'd wake up turned back into a hankie. It wasn't so long ago that he'd got over being an accidental culmination of his dad's tears and Hera's godly sweat. So it was understandable that he still checked his arm every morning to make sure it hadn't unexpectedly changed.

George put a forkful of beans into his mouth, and then stopped - straightened the pepper pot - counted out the same number of beans as there had been last mouthful - and continued. He wasn't sure if it was his ADHD or his OCD - a surprisingly good combination, he had discovered - but he instantly felt happier.

"George!" Came the excited cry as the small boy came running over. "Hello!"

George just stopped himself from groaning. The kid - Nico something-or-other - had only been at camp a couple of days, but he already seemed to idolize George, and as annoying as Nico was, George didn't want to disappoint him.

"What's up, Nico?" He replied, almost convincingly enthusiastic. But Nico didn't hear the exhaustion in George's voice. By then, the boy had started a rather gabbled blow-by-blow account of his day and George could only hear occasional words like "Sword" or "Lake" or "300+ attack damage with the caduceus". But despite what Nico believed, the day didn't sound as pleasant as it could have been. Nico was a good kid, but he really needed to think about what people said to him. Maybe stop taking "You're so much smarter than you seem" as a compliment. But George knew Nico wouldn't, so it was left to him. He should start charging for this sort of thing.

"Um, Nico? Who said that to you?"

"Oh, Drew, in Cabin 10! She's so nice, she reminds me -"

But Nico's words fell on deaf ears. Of course, George knew the girl. She'd been the one to show him around camp. He'd actually promised to look after the girl, so frigid at the time. But that didn't matter now.

Drew was waiting for him. She knew what she'd done, and she knew George couldn't hurt her. She was really a very clever girl and knew despite his many faults, George would never dream of breaking his promise to look after her. He was too good for that. Tragically good, she thought.

And George? George wasn't scared. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that looking after her was not the same as being good to her. There was a way out, not least if someone special was involved. Because no matter how much he hated it, he was Hera's son.

 **(OK, this is actually going a lot better than I expected. I don't know if forty-eight views in two days is a lot, but it's more than I expected. Might do this more often.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Makayla wakes up. Stretches. Scratches her eye. Crawls out of the empty wardrobe she lives in. Walks off down the road.

Does she know? Maybe. She knows that she isn't normal; but then again, living on the streets is hardly normal. She realizes that she's special and there might be people that understand; but most of them seem to want to kill her. She realizes that she should probably keep it secret; but who would she keep it secret from? She has no friends, no family that she knows of. She knows all this, but that is the extent to which she knows. She has no idea what attacked her on 48th, just that it was painful. She doesn't know what that big noise from the Empire State Building was, just that it was loud. And she has absolutely no idea why she was born with one eye instead of two, just that it's there.

But today might be different. Today is the day she finally swallows her doubt, follows the strange woman's advice and gets the answers she was promised.

She checks the card again. Half-Blood Hill, Long Island. Not too far then. If she had the money, she'd be able to get a taxi. But she hasn't got the money. All she's got is the clothes she's wearing, the backpack, a pencil and discarded Post-It note and - she checks inside the bag again - the watch. The only beautiful thing she's seen in the eight years she's been alive and living on the streets. Of course, there are those who would say she wouldn't understand beauty - the haughty and proud bank manager's wives - but Makayla still hoped. It was mostly what kept her going.

Those living on the streets have two options. Some ignore the world around them. They maybe find a meal for the day and spend the rest of their time just thinking, doing what they can and dreaming of the life that could be theirs. But Makayla was different. She was the sort who doesn't think of it, and does it. More mature, less optimistic. There's no point imagining a future that probably won't come true, so they know to do what they can to make their life better, create a future that will come true. Even if that future maybe isn't so bright as the one you imagine.

"Do you want to do this, Makayla?" says the voice in her head softly. "What do you know about this place? How do you know she's not leading you into a trap? You know about this place though, Makayla. Why don't you stay here? Don't take the risk. Don't you want to stay?"

But no. Makayla is the cautious type. Not as hopeful. But that doesn't mean there's no hope at all. Because hope is always there, no matter how bad the situation. There's always the light at the end of the tunnel. There's always the possibility of escape. There's always the reason to take the risk.

And today, maybe that risk is worth taking.


	4. Chapter 4

"She had a _son_?"

There were many things that Rowan would never understand, but the only one that really bothered him was why everyone assumed Demeter only ever had daughters. Admittedly, she did have a lot of them, but she's hardly going to stop herself from having a child if she knows it's a boy.

Being known as the only living Son of Demeter was hardly a huge burden; some people were actually surprised to find out Demeter actually had kids at all (thank you, Tyche). But Rowan was still rather tired of the title he was given by those too lazy to get to know him. Because he suspected that if they did maybe things might be a little easier. He was perfectly capable of thinking outside the box, so just let him do it. Quest to retrieve Zeus's lightning bolt? Would it really be so hard to leave Poseidon's son behind so you could actually get a plane? Magical border failing? Could you not just ask for another one? Labyrinth opened inside camp? Why can't you just block it up? But as usual, people were too fixated on the fact that "He's a boy?" to actually consider he might be able to help.

"Yes, Demeter had a son. And here I am. Woohoo. Do you need a big sign or is it clear enough?"

Yeah, that idea about Demeter's kids being all meek and timid? Feel free to test it out. Give 'em a reason and they will stand up for themselves.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yes?"

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" In a patronizing tone of voice.

"Oh, is lil baby George all confuzzled?" With equal condescension. "Basically, imagine that Demeter has children that are boys. That's me! Now, is that better? Does that make sense?"

At this point, most people would have stopped. They would have decided it wasn't worth the effort, and that this seemingly complacent young boy would continue to be as rude as ever. But not this boy. This was George Aguilar, the only child of Hera to ever exist. He'd had a rough time, but he had a talent for carrying on as usual no matter what. And right now, he wanted to carry on talking and if possible, come out on his own terms.

"Hmmm, not sure. Maybe if you were just a little bit clearer. A PowerPoint presentation might come in useful, but I don't suppose you have one prepared, do you? Shame..."

Rowan had been expecting many things, but not this. To give him credit, he did recover quickly, but a few seconds caught off guard was all George needed in order to know he had a fighting chance.

It was going to be a long while before the two boys were forced to stop.


	5. Chapter 5

Ellis Wakefield never really paid much attention to his friend Daniel did with the paper until the day of the attack.

It was simple enough, really. Every day, the two would go to period one together. Dan would pretend to have lost his notepad and ask the teacher for a sheet of paper to do any work on, and the teacher, however exasperated, would have no choice but to oblige. Dan would then mysteriously "find" his notepad at the bottom of his backpack and apologize to the teacher, before carrying on as if nothing had happened in the first place. Partway through the lesson, Dan would draw a few lines on the sheet, before hurriedly stuffing it into his bag, only to be seen at lunch, where he would be reading it furtively.

As far as Ellis was concerned, there was no real threat, and there were plenty enough of those to defend himself from. Ellis knew that he couldn't really do much about the paper so he might as well mind his own business. And so he did. For several weeks Ellis would make sure to give the boy some space. But it couldn't last forever. There will always be some things that last forever, and change is one of them. In this instance, the catalyst was mainly Ellis's stepsister. She was the sort of person who always kept up to date with all the juicy gossip and the moment she heard about Dan's habit she wanted to know, so she was quick to make Ellis promise to investigate.

It was a surprisingly long time before he cracked. Maybe it was the daily argument with his oafish stepfather Eddie that got more out of hand. Maybe it was the first day at middle school, which Ellis adapted to in seconds but the others struggled painfully with. Whatever it was, on the first day of middle school, Ellis kept his promise to his sister.

Peering over Dan's shoulder in an art lesson, Ellis noticed several odd things about the paper - although by now it looked more like a newsletter. Who was Circe? Where had Dan got that picture from? Come to think of it, where had Dan got all the other ages from. Ellis was quite far away, but he could still see several other pages. By lunch, Ellis had had enough. He made the decision to confront and interrogate his friend and finally get some answers.

"What are you doing?" Ellis whispered. He had snuck up in Dan in the library, who seemed to be reading a tabloid article entitled "Kronos Rises In Shock Battle On Circe's Isle!"

"Just reading a newspaper," trembled Dan once he had got over his shock. Ellis was a very intimidating person. "Mostly fake news anyway."

Ellis was tempted to back down. He really didn't like scaring people, which was a shame, because he was very good at it. But he had made a promise. And he was not the sort of person to break a promise.

"You have got a lot of explaining to do, Daniel Atkinson," hissed Ellis.

"Absolutely, Ellis Wakefield."


	6. Chapter 6

Malcolm lifted up his shirt, showing his belly button.

"But how? If you're born from her head..."

"Look, I don't know, OK? Surprisingly enough, I wasn't there when it happened. If I'm honest, the reason for my bellybutton's existence has never really been my biggest concern."

Malcolm Pace had been having a Bad Day. Such a bad day it should have been trademarked and sold to anyone who felt their life was going too well. So pretty much any mortal. First, he had woken up to find live spiders in his hair and a hose on full blast lying across his bed, courtesy of the Stoll Brothers. Then, he had eventually emerged from his cabin to find that Titan Lord had risen and was sending an army through the Labyrinth to destroy camp. He then discovered he had to stop devising battle plans to show around a Daughter Of Hermes who knew far too much about mythology for their first day at camp. And on top of all that by the time he'd got to breakfast Drew Tanaka had eaten all of the bagels, a truly heinous insult which should not go unavenged.

By the time he'd shown all the new campers around, it was five o'clock and most campers were already ending preparations for the day and heading back to their cabins for an hour of free time. But Malcolm wasn't heading to Cabin Six. He wasn't stopping. He needed to get to the battlefield council tent. Maybe if he could just get some work done of tactics, his day might not have been wasn't. And even if it had been, it would still cheer him up. Besides, they probably needed his help. Ares kids. Good warriors, trashy tacticians.

"Actually, we don't need any help, Malcolm. Chiron's been helping with tactics and we should be all ready in a couple of days. But if something else turns up, we'll know where to find you, right?"

And so it was that Malcolm found himself returning to his empty cabin, dejected and fed up. Maybe an early night. He just needed some alone time for a while, maybe some sleep. Just until he felt better.

He had just started undressing into his pyjamas when a boom sounded and there came the sound of rapid knocking at the door. "Malcolm, we need you! They're attacking today, they're not waiting to gather forces. Come on, we need you now!"

Malcolm sighed. This day had simultaneously got better and worse, and he had no idea how to feel about it.

And in just a t-shirt and pair of red boxer shorts, he rushed out to take charge.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry it's taken so long, but the electrics are playing up again. I can't quite be sure when the next one's gonna be, but I'll get it to you by Monday at the latest.**

Austin, Jackson and Dotty Lake. The Three Musketeers. The Wonder Kids. Or as they liked to call themselves "those idiots and me".

As the only girl out of the three, Dotty was outnumbered, but what she lacked in numbers she more than made up for in effort. She always used to say that "Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some take greatness without being a wuss", with the amount of profanity inserted into the phrase varying with her levels of frustration. If that was true, then she had certainly had it thrust upon her very easily, and made it her duty to thrust it further onto her brothers, often quite agressively. It wasn't that she didn't love them it's just that "Love is a many-livered thing", a phrase which always made the boys understandably wince.

It hadn't been easy for her. Jackson was always busy with his bandages, and Austin was more interested with saxophone, so it had been up to her to protect them all on the way to camp. She had had no idea how, but it was true that "Desperate times call for desperate rulers". There were others to begin with, but after a while they all got picked off. Having five or six demigods in one place at one time is going attract enough monsters as it is. But triplets? There's a reason are so few. So far there had only been twins at most, and even those were either killed off in battle or made into gods.

It wasn't like she didn't have things she'd rather do as well. She had inevitably developed a talent for archery on the way to camp, and she would have liked nothing better than to practise and practise and get better and better. Archery was very much her way of having fun and keeping safe, "Killing two racists with one burn". But she knew that she had to maybe sometimes put that aside to do other important jobs such as making camp, finding food or running away from that thing in the corner.

"Dotty? We're here," Austin announced tentatively. He wondered if she'd been doing that internal rant thing again. It had started off very easy - and quite funny - to watch. But since she'd realized, Dotty had made it less obvious.

"What? Oh, yes, yes, yes, Camp Half-Blood. Looks a bit less... Glorious than dad made it sound."

"That'll probably be the cabins on fire."

"Oh, yeah."

"D'you think we should...?"

"Probably."

And together, although perhaps regrettably not arm in arm, the three set off to enter camp. Sure, it was on fire, but maybe that was only on Tuesdays or something. All these weird traditions...


	8. Chapter 8

Nymphs. Peaceful, pacifist, happy-go-lucky. Dedicated to the wild and protecting their rivers, forest and mountains, delicate creatures who wouldn't harm a butterfly, yes?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. No.

Yes, some were like that. But the ones with a little more dignity decided at young ages - say 250 years old - that they had better things to be doing with their time than comb their hair and sing beautiful songs and have affairs with Zeus. They could be out partying with the Maenads or eating too many biscuits or going into politics (long and rather confusing story).

Take Velme for example. A very fierce naiad and yes, I do, regrettably, speak from experience. She knew right off the bat that:

1\. Having a river for a dad sucked, particularly when the river never did anything.

2\. Being flirted with by Zeus sucked, particularly when Zeus was simultaneously trying to flirt with your best friend.

3\. Combing her hair sucked, particularly when the hair was as hedge-like as Velme's.

So she made sure to find something to do with her time. Most people might have taken up a hobby like bird-watching or stamp-collecting. But Velme decided, quite rightly, that those were pretty useless. So maybe she could joint club, or gone to art lessons or something, right? Nope. Not good enough. So Velme turned to her final option, the one she knew would upset her father the most. She became a Hunter of Artemis.

And it made sense. There'd be no need to see her father, because she'd constantly be moving around the world. They,d be no need to watch out for any flirtatious gods, because they wouldn't want to upset Artemis. And there'd be no need to comb her hair because it would just get tangled again, and it might even provide her with extra camouflage. If the animals they were hunting were particularly short-sighted. And besides, she loved being outdoors. She'd always wanted to travel. It wasn't like she'd be missing anything. In the river nothing ever happened that hadn't already happened the day before.

There was however, one problem. She'd wasn't really sure what she had been expecting but a few days after making her decision, Velme had a sudden revelation and soon came to an undeniable conclusion: to become a Huntress of Artemis, you have to actually do something, for example, go looking for them. You don't wait for them to pass by. You have to actually find them before joining.

And so it was that Velme found herself packing a packet of biscuits and setting off to find the one and only Lady Artemis.


	9. Chapter 9

"Shane. Oh Shane. Shane-Boy. Shanemeister. Shaney McShaneface. Shane the -"

"How long does this generally go on for, Leo?"

"Depends on how creative I'm feeling."

"And are you feeling particularly creative today, or can we just get on with it?"

"Patience, young Shanehopper," ruffling his hair.

"Please stop that. Also, aren't I older than you?"

"We have had this conversation enough times already."

Silence for a moment.

"Okay, fine. Just get me a Wade-Dahl-Till valve already. Jeez..."

"Didn't fix that control disk as well as we thought, eh?"

Leo did not reply, but did walk off mumbling something about "stupid Canadians... Who even likes metres anyway?", which was almost as good as a reply. In fact, these sorts of comments tended to replace replies for most kids of Hephaestus, simply because replies actually required human interaction, which they always found to be a struggle. "We tend to prefer machines to humans. Easier to work with," Dad had said to Shane once. And Shane had never felt any reason to disagree with him. I mean, sure, his dad was an Olympian so pretty likely to smite anyone who disagreed, but that was nothing to do with it.

Shane wandered off. He knew that there was an unspoken truth among those who knew about Cabin Nine and the Argo Project; whatever you're looking for, it will be hidden somewhere where you're least likely to find it. It does not matter how organised the room seemed, how vital the objects was, it would be stashed somewhere it shouldn't be. There was probably some sort of Law of Physics about it. Maybe not a very sensible one, but it was a nice thought. Shane could see it now:

THE LAWS OF DEMIGODNESS

1\. A force, such as a Drakon, will either stay still or keep going forever unless another force, such as a demigod, opposes it.

2\. How much pain a demigod is in is proportional to how much damage the monster did.

2\. Every demigod has an equal and opposite opponent; a monster that's like them, and a monster that's exactly the opposite (actually, who am I kidding, every monster is the exact opposite of a demigod. I can't think of a single monster that is like a human.)

Mental note: remember to ask Annabeth about that. Admittedly, it might send her into Hulkabeth mode but that was risk worth taking if it got a reaction. And besides, once he'd thought of something he thought of as funny, Shane had to tell someone. You wouldn't escape a conversation with him without hearing some sort of story or joke, no matter how bad it was.

Now why was he in Bunker 9?

Oh. Yeah. That valve. Funny how these things slip your mind, isn't it?


	10. Chapter 10

"How about I morph my face so he doesn't recognise me?"

"We've got to find you another way of saying that."

"Well, I can hardly say that I pineapple my face, can I?"

"Look, Mitch, let's be honest, if you're gonna change your face that much, you'd probably faint by the time you'd got to your eyes. And besides, where would that leave me?"

Mitchell and Lacy. Partners in crime, according to Drew. And what crime was it they had committed? Drew had told Chiron they had been fighting; the two had been unable to reply that they had simply been crossing the Boy/Girl boundary in the cabin without Drew's permission. Tyrant? Oh, yes.

"Maybe we could love-magic him into forgiving us? It's not nearly as good as charmspeak, obviously, but -"

"He's been doing this sort of thing for thousands of years. I think he'll have learnt to resist it by now."

"But there's two of us. Two."

"And there were thousands before us."

Silence for a moment.

"Well, if you're not gonna pineapple your face -"

"You're actually going with that?"

"If you're not gonna pineapple your face to disguise yourself, you might as well make yourself look a bit more... Chiron-friendly?"

"Do I have to? It's really tiring!"

"You'll get over it."

"What if my face changes so much, I can't remember what my face actually looks like?"

"You literally printed your face onto your diary so that everybody would know it was yours."

"But... But... I don't want to lose my stretchers!

"Clutching at straws there, Mitch. Look, if they matter to you that much, you can get them back afterwards. Besides, you only just started. You won't lose that much progress."

"Fine." A second, in which Mitchell looked like he was concentrating hard, and suddenly his ear gauges popped into nothing. Another moment, a quick decision, and Mitch suddenly looked at least six inches taller and a little wearier. "There. You happy now?"

"It's so cool how you can do that."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"What I don't get though, is why you don't stretch 'em all the way in the first place."

"What?"

"Well, you can control your gauges and their size, yeah? So why do you have to stretch your ears normally? Beats me."

"Oh... Well, I have to, or else it takes all the fun out of it."

"Suuuuuuure it does, Mitch. Besides, how'd you even get the gauges in the first place? They sell them in the gift shop?"

"Mmm? Oh, there's a guy in the Hermes cabin. Smuggle in anything for a quick buck."

Another couple of minutes.

"Why does he do this?"

"What, keep us waiting? Probably thinks that it makes him look important."

"Makes him look late."

But there was no time to pursue that train of thought, because at that point, the door to the big house opened, and the pair's audience with Chiron began.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ehhh... I'm lazy. Don't hold it against me. I need time off to have existential crises. Probably be uploading a bit more regularly soon.**

"Water balloons?"

"Obviously."

"Fake moustaches?"

"Only the best."

"Even honky-honky horns?"

At this point, Alex paused, unsure how to answer Alice's question without seeming like he'd gone insane. He decided on the foolproof "What?"

"Honky-honky horns! Everyone knows about this! You know, horns that go honky-honky?"

"You mean bike horns?"

"Pretty sure they're called honky-honky horns."

"Whatever, just take the stuff, gimme my five bucks and please stop calling them honky-honky horns."

"Do you an offer on two out of three."

"Only if those two are the money and honky-honky horns. D'you have any idea how hard it was to smuggle this in?"

"Fine, I'll stop."

Silently, with a kind of mock-seriousness, the goods were exchanged from brother to sister. Something passed unspoken between the two, and they nodded to each other. It was very dramatic. Probably.

"Miss Miyazawa."

"Mr McLeod."

And the two parted. Whilst Alex went to give the hot chocolate he'd smuggled in to Clovis, Alice rummaged through the packet for a moment - withdrew the instruction booklet made redundant by the new owner - and found a bin to discard it in. "A true prankmaster needs no instructions, young grasshopper," she often said in what she considered her wise-old-mentor-voice to any of the new Hermes kids. Or anyone else who would listen, and they did come occasionally. They didn't stay long, and after a brief chat with Chiron they never seemed to trust her in quite the same way ever again. But she was grateful for what she got.

Alice inspected her surroundings. The obstacle course, yes! The new Hephaestus kid Harley had set up the course in an attempt to 'get to know people' as he claimed, but it had done a better job of giving Damien White a surprisingly messy case of Perpetual Irish Dancing. The course had quickly been abandoned after that, but so far, nobody had been brave enough to dismantle it. Only one lone Ares kid stood by it, smearing the monkey bars with butter in what he probably assumed was a discreet manner.

Alice felt her blood boil. How dare someone else play the exact same prank as she had been planning! Someone would pay.

"Hey, you look like a good strong kid!" Alice offered to the nearest kid, a rather dazed-looking Athena girl. "I bet you could do all those monkey bars in one go."

"I'm sorry?"

"Honestly, I bet you... Oh, I dunno, five bucks? Of course, if you're not brave enough..."

And it was at this point that the Athena girl, who up until now had not been paying much attention, felt so outraged by the insult to her courage, as kids like that often feel, that she decided she would win on the bet. It was at this point that the young girl slipped and fell onto the Ares kid, who hadn't bothered to look behind himself whilst smearing butter. And it was at this point that Alice Miyazawa walked away, five dollars richer, chortling. Was she good for punishing the boy for being mean, or bad for cheating the girl out of her money?

Who knew? Who was bothered? Who even really cared?


	12. Chapter 12

"Seriously, you're so lucky, though. You've got immunity to fire and I get excitable grapes."

Makayla was not a lucky girl. She spent her life going between children's homes and cardboard boxes. She had been abandoned by her nymph mother for "being too Cyclopsy", apparently. And now she was leaving the only friend she had made since. But it felt nice to have Yoshimi call her lucky.

"You got everything then, Mak?" Yoshimi chirruped. She may never see her best friend again, but she could at least be helpful in their final few minutes together.

"Yes, I've got everything," with a sigh. "One pencil, the watch and a pack of... What is this?"

A pause, in which neither knew quite what to say in order to make the object seem at all useful or necessary.

"It's... It's strawberry jam. Thought you might need it one day."

"Why exactly would I need strawberry jam?"

"I dunno... I grew the strawberries myself. Not at good as the grapes, but...

"Don't suppose it was that hard then?"

"It's not like you won't have room for it."

"Fine, I'll take it. Everything else the home can have back."

Walking down the corridor in silence, Yoshimi marvelled once again at people's ignorance. How could they not see? One great big eye slap bang in the middle of Mak's forehead and still nobody noticed. It was absurd, it really was.

Outside at the wall separating the dull little garden from the graffiti-plastered alleyway, the two girls stopped. The final goodbye.

"You sure I can't come too?"

"Stay with the home, Yoshimi. I've already slept rough. Enjoy having a roof over your head while you still can."

"You're four years old. You shouldn't be running away."

"Yeah, well, I'm not spending any more time here. Not if I can help it."

Again, that silence. That deafening silence that told so much without saying anything useful.

"Well. See you again some time. Or else."

"I hope so. Hey, if you ever go past any old wardrobes next to a rocking chair, say hi. Oh, and stay off 48th if you can. Not a good idea. Very painful one though, if you ever need it."

"I'll try and bear that in mind. And I'll bring a sandwich or something in case I see you again."

"Squares or triangles?"

"Circles."

"Good thinking."

That silence again. And then, the moment abruptly arrives that neither girl knows what to say, or needs to say it. There's only one word running through both their minds. Goodbye.

And with that, Makayla climbs over the wall and is gone.

Well, Yoshimi thinks. Now the absurd fruit conversations are done, I need a new hobby. Wonder if I'd be any good at knitting.

 **Thanks for 800-odd views in the first month. I've made people happy doing something I love when I only expected 2 views a day. Here's to many more stories.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Yeah... It's complicated."

Children of Hades never have simple lives. It's not that their lives aren't nice - although they're certainly not perfect - it's that there stories are never quite coherent. Hazel Levesque. Classic example. Died back in the forties, simple enough, right? Yeah, but that's before you consider that a Son of Hades who had been trapped in a hotel/casino for seventy years, would, in a few month's time, rescue Hazel from the Asphodel fields. It was enough to give Westworld a headache.

And now there was Katerina Sanchez. Had Hades broken the oath or had she somehow survived since the forties? Nope, she had been turned into an island of the coast of Alaska during the First World War, before being reformed after Nico's appearance seeing as the danger was over. See? There is always a... Relatively simple explanation for things. So what Kat meant when she said "It's complicated" was actually "Someone please end this conversation before they ask about the tourists".

"Complicated. That's what you're going to go with?"

"Well, not so much complicated, more -"

"More weird?"

"That would... That would work too."

Kat had hoped that Violet would leave it there. And if it came down to it, she couldn't really force Kat continue. Her mom was actually Iris, the single most annoying goddess ever. What would Violet do, rainbow Kat into submission? But Kat had underestimated Violet. And also it was rather hard for Kat to get away. Canoes in the middle of a lake are not places you simply walk out of. Unless you were Percy, of course, but surprisingly enough not everybody was.

Violet giggled, an odiously smug little giggle, like she'd just read someone's thoughts and found something incredibly pink with no clothes. "You're so funny, Kat. I wish I was as funny as you. Nobody ever finds me funny..."

Kat's intense loathing of the girl deepened with this new self-pitying remark. Digging for a compliment. Idiot. She wanted people to think she was unlucky? Well, welcome to being a demigod! I'll be your guide! And besides, the comment wasn't true. She'd noticed plenty of people standing around Violet laughing, saying something about her hair? Admittedly, the rainbow dye was almost comically excessive, but it was hardly comedy gold.

"I'm sure you're _very_ funny really, Violet."

"Oh no. Not as funny as you. You're so funny and clever and pretty. I wish I was just like you."

Again, not true. Violet was the one acing every test in Greek History classes. She was the one turning heads, and she knew all that. She simply wanted to hear it again, this time from the one person she knew didn't want to say it.

It was only later that Kat considered the possibility that Violet hadn't been lying.


	14. Chapter 14

Black and white. In colour*. Black and white. In colour. In colour. Black and white. In colour. Black and white.

The mouse, undoubtedly startled by these sudden changes, finally found a gap in the boy's hands and leapt away to freedom. Now had it been colour-blind or not when it escaped. Based on the creature's surprised squeaks at the cabin walls, Violet guessed not. It was a shame - they really didn't want to be blamed for another mouse suddenly seeing colour and as such becoming both self-aware and a megalomaniacal dictator - but despite themselves the whole cabin found the rodent's confused squeaks very… very…

Hue-morous.

As Violet always told the new demigods, first lesson in the Iris Cabin is get used to the corny jokes. There is no escape once you've heard Butch's motto; "Sleeping is so easy I can do it with my eyes closed."

The second lesson? Try not to get too aggressive about your views. Iris kids didn't generally fall out with anyone. The only time they had was not long after the Titan War when Violet herself got into an argument with Lou Ellen Blackstone - some say over the best colour, some claim it was to do with the pronunciation of scone - and a miniature civil war had split the camp for six days before they'd finally had enough. Iris, Hera, Athena, Hermes, Apollo, Tyche and Zeus versus Hecate, Poseidon, Hephaestus, Nike, Demeter, Aphrodite, Dionysus, Ares, Hades, Hebe and the Hunters, with Hypnos and Nemesis wisely staying neutral.

And the third lesson? Paint is vital. If you hate paint then you might as well go live in the forest. Every time you leave camp for whatever reason, you will return with paint or else you are as close as you can get to being divorced from your half-siblings.

It was all a façade, you know. Every cabin has someone to regret - Beckendorf, Silena, Luke - but Iris kids took it worst. There's a reason why Iris is a vegan running a healthy eating program in the middle of nowhere. She and her kids are fragile. Overprotected. Distant. The closer you get, the further away they are. The jokes, the mild-manneredness, the paint; it's all to forget Andy, to ignore the things they insist on blinding themselves to. No doing better next time if there's never a first time to begin with.

So the three lessons aren't just all you need to know - they're all you will ever know. They're all you'll ever be told because you can't ever be allowed to see anything else. You'll see jokes and niceness and paint, but never the memories. Never the regrets. Never the campers.

Until they see you, you'll never see the campers.

*Yes. Colour. With a U. I will fight you.


	15. Chapter 15

"A... fanboy?"

"God of sleep and relaxation, that would include *yawn* fanboys, wouldn't it? And besides, we can't have a god of just fanboys. The name *yawn* Fanboyus was already taken."

Mason's first ever conversation with Hypnos was not going as anyone expected. For one thing, he had appeared as an American man, which Mason had always found annoying to speak to ever since he had moved from Britain. For another, his dad looked ready to drop off and leave the conversation hanging. And for third, when he was awake, he seemed to be anxious to get back to his comics. Mason understood; his life consisted mostly of the two things - but at least someone was making the effort to stay on topic. This new revelation probably made it a lot easier.

Mason looked at his dad once again, realising that while he had been contemplating all this, several snores had replaced the yawns. He slapped his father on the cheek to wake him up. Later, he realised it was a stupid risk to have taken, but, as usual, he hadn't considered that.

"Well -"

"Yes?"

"At least tell me you've read Watchmen. I'll be honest, that's pretty much all I ask."

"I'm an immortal God of relaxation. There is nothing entertainment based I do not get hold of. I think it's safe to say I've got around to reading Watchmen."

"Good. You had me worried for a second."

"And, uhm, I'm glad you ask if I read it. Very good. Clearly *yawn* learnt from the best."

"Well, after the Eragon film..."k

"Mmm. The Watchmen movie -"

"Film, dad, film."

"- Wasn't too bad, but after that, Zack Synder wasn't quite so *big yawn* reliable, right?"

Then he noticed the utter bafflement on his son's face.

"Oh, right. So that's not *yawn* happened yet. Another five, maybe ten years? Whatever, just don't place *yawn* any bets on DC. Go for Marvel."

"There's gonna be another Avengers film?

"Just you wait. You've *yawn* got a lot to look forward to if I *yawn* have anything to do with it."

"Y'know, this is nice, dad."

"Yeah?" Excited at the prospect of being a good dad. A new concept to him.

"We should do this more often. You know, dream conversations."

"Oh. Yeah, that... That'd be nice. I'd like that."

"But...?"

"But? Oh, yeah, but. I'd like that but I'm not sure if I can quite..."

"You might not be able to. God stuff."

"Yeah... God stuff."

"Like?"

"Like... Like... Well... There was this bed in Scranton I really wanna sleep on at some point."

"A bed. In Scranton."

"Well..."

"No, that's fine, Dad. You go and sleep on the bed in Scranton. Don't worry about me. I'm only your son."

"Mason, please, try to understand."

"I'm fine, dad. See you soon. Or not. I don't suppose it would really matter."

And Mason woke up. A moment of peace, and then the tears. He'd met his dad for the first time and he's only gone and had a tantrum. And now he couldn't go back. Dad would be waiting for him, and Mason wasn't sure he could face that.

For the first time in his life, Mason didn't want to go to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

"Never thought I'd see you here again, asshole."

"Hello, Billie."

Not what either party had wanted the conversation to start like, but no less than they expected. Billie had expected her section of border patrol to be quiet. She hadn't expected the Fates to deliver him right to her, but she had expected to see him and tell him just what she thought eventually. As for Kai, he was nonplussed. He didn't know quite how this was going to go, just that it wouldn't go as well as he hoped.

"What do you want, Kai? You realise just by talking to you I'm breaking every rule in existence? I should be killing you now, just for being Luke's attack dog."

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"Let me guess. We surrender now, you won't harm us?" Billie gives him her extremely overused air quotations. "You know nobody believes that, right?"

"Actually, that's not it. I was hoping to give you information on Kronos's forces."

A stunned beat.

"What?"

"You heard. I can tell you about his plans to take over the world."

"Don't believe you."

"Right. And tell me, how much do you know already? Do you know exactly which Titans stand behind Luke? Where exactly he's operating from? How big his army is? Do you _really_ have this all under control?"

"Why should I believe you?" Not so sure now. Cautious. Maybe considering her options.

"You should believe me because you don't have any other choice. If you want to have any idea what's going on, you need me."

"Your brother Ethan was the one who resurrected Kronos. He's Luke's left-hand-man. He nearly killed Percy. And you were behind him all the way. And you expect us to forget all that?"

"No," Kai replies truthfully. "Feel free to do what you like with me. Lock me up, torture me, execute me if you like. I'd probably prefer it if you did. But just let me help."

"No. I'd like to, but..."

"No, you wouldn't. You don't want me to help. You lost someone? And now you want revenge. Don't try lying to me. I know all about revenge. You want revenge and here I am. So go ahead. Who better to give it to you?"

Billie raised the sword. So, so easy. So, so easy. So, so...

She lowered the sword.

"You'll regret that. You honestly think I'm not worth killing?"

"Loyal to their views, but only to a fault. Remind you of anyone?"

"It wasn't just me, Billie. There were others. They just didn't want to have to make the decision. Neither did I."

"So why did you? I've seen you in their army before. You didn't really believe in all that. You were there for Luke."

For the first time, Kai is flustered.

"I... I thought he needed protecting. Maybe I thought I could convince him."

"That wasn't what I meant. You would have gone anywhere with him."

"Not after what I saw him do."

A beat. The decision is made.

"Come on then. Don't say a word. Let me explain to them."


	17. Chapter 17

"Your move," Kyle smirks, sickeningly smug.

Daisy makes sure to grin back with equal, if not even greater, hypocrisy before considering her next move. This game needs absolute concentration. Or you could just play it like a normal person. That would would work too. But no, Hangman is a far too serious game for Daisy to play like a normal wasn't just a game; it was a matter of life and death to both the stupid little doodle and Daisy, or, at the very least, it might have well have been.

"O," hesitant now. If she knows Kyle like she thinks she does, he would never make this as easy as she'd hoped. she know stat she hasn't. "O," she repeats, more confident now, no longer going on instinct alone. Now she has instinct, delusion, _and_ self-assurance on her side. And in return, Kyle picks up the pencil and sketches the O into three spaces, struggling to hold back a sigh as his luck inexplicably runs out.

_ E _ / _ E _ _ E _ / _ O _ _ _ _ / _ O O _

"Your move," she parrots back at her opponent. Two minutes in, all to play for.

It's at this point that Daisy first properly notices the crowds cheering around her. Of course, she knew they were there. They were hard to ignore, all that yelling going on. Her supporters standing behind her, Kyle's supporters behind him. This thing had been going on for five days now. Nobody knew exactly what caused it, just that Violet Beckett and Lou Ellen Blackstone were behind it. Was it really over colours, or perhaps it was scones? Who could tell? But whatever started it, it hadn't stopped, Chiron wasn't planning on doing anything and conflict at all was likely to attract attention, _especially_ Hangman with a daughter of Nike and a son of Tyche. Luck vs. Victory? Tough choice.

And now she's contemplated this, Kyle looks up. "D," triumphantly smiling. And sure enough, Daisy is unable to hold back the sigh Kyle could as she picks up the pencil and writes down this new development on her piece of paper.

D O _ ' T / _ A _ _ / A / _ A _ E / _ O _ / _ T / _ E T

Kyle falls silent, grinning from ear to ear at his ensured victory, and the crowd follow suit. He's only a few letters off winning; she's barely halfway. She needs spectacular luck in order to win now. And Kyle isn't sharing.

Daisy knows she's in trouble now. Beginning to panic. She can't lose. She can't lose. She can't lose. She stares back and forth between the two pieces of paper, praying to every god she likes and every god she doesn't that staring between the two will provide her with some heavenly insight. She musn't lose. She musn't lose. She musn't lose.

Oh.

This isn't about him winning. He doesn't care about that. She's made the mistake of assuming he's just like her. But he's not. Only one of them wants to win. Only one of them has any tactics. Only one of them would choose to write something so out-of-character that it can't be guessed.

"My turn," she smirks knowingly.


	18. Chapter 18

"Is Santa real?"

"What?"

"Is Santa real? I mean, the Greek Gods are real and there was that whole thing with the Easter Bunny last April, so is Santa real?"

"I honestly don't know, Kitty. I've never given it much thought and I doubt I'm gonna be able to. In case you hadn't noticed, I've got something important on right now."

"No reason to lose sight of Christmas. You can still have fun."

"Yeah, you see, the thing about Christmas is it's for Christians. The clue is in the name. Are you becoming Christian now? Are you suddenly not believing in the gods just to celebrate Christmas?"

"Even if I wasn't, there's still Hanukkah and Kwanzaa and the winter solstice and-" Kitty retorted, rambling on.

"Please stop this."

"And Las Posadas and Diwala and St Lucia's Day and-" says a familiar voice from behind them.

"Chiron, don't encourage her."

"Thank you, Chiron! You're the best teacher ever!"

"You're just saying that because he's siding with you."

"If there was a way to say smiley face out loud without sounding weird, I'd use it right now, for you Chiron!"

"I think the point Kitty is trying to make, Lola, is that December is an important time of year for all sorts of people. You should treasure it. And besides, who says Santa isn't real?"

"You, hopefully."

"Breaks into several million houses in one night? Only Hermes's kids would be so talented."

And having dropped that bombshell, Chiron walked off to stop the Stoll Brothers from putting tinsel and baubles on top of a sleeping Thalia.

"Please, Lucy?"

"No. I mean for starters, where are you going to get a tree?"

"I'm sure Peleus won't mind us using Thalia's tree."

"You're going to want a feast. Don't blame me when you don't get one."

"Ah, I'm sure it's not that hard."

"You are not going anywhere near a kitchen. Remember last time?"

"... No... What happened last time?"

 _As the flames engulfed the experimental Camp Kitchen, a face loomed out of the darkness._

 _"Bonjour, leetle childrens. 'Ow are you today? I see you 'ave brought moi a leetle child of Hebe. 'Ow nice! I've been needing to get zat youthful look," leered Dr Thorn, self-assured of his victory._

 _"Did you, by any chance, get that recipe off the Internet, Kitty?" Lucy hissed through clenched teeth._

 _"Well, maybe you should have told me a bit earlier that it attracts monsters!" retorts the young girl._

"That is not true. It's all lies. I honestly don't know what you're talking about. It can't have been that bad."

It would be a long time before either girl gave in.

 **A/N: Is it bad that it's still October and I'm already in a Christmas mood? It probably is. I'll try and update more regularly.**


	19. Chapter 19

Kyle's father had only ever had two rules; always eat your greens and never summon a demon. Kyle managed to break both.

The demon was a smaller thing than he anticipated. And more... nice. Kyle had expected far more spikes. Probably bat wings as well. Not silk Italian suits. Silk Italian suits were quite far down on the 'Signs He Might Be A Demon' list. In fact, the whole thing was very un-demony. He was black and very tall, as opposed to being 50 feet and covered in bony armour plates, like Kyle had expected. Bleached blond hair and a military haircut, as opposed to horns, like Kyle had expected. Tortoiseshell sunglasses, as opposed to empty eye sockets, like Kyle had expected. The British accent was pretty much all Kyle's expectations had in common with the reality before him, and even that was a lot less creepy and with a lot more mispronunciation.

"Sooooo... You're the demon."

"Daimon."

"Damien? No, I'm looking for Charon. Ferryman of the Styx. You heard of him?"

"Course I heard of him. Be a bit worried if I suddenly discovered my existence. Look, mate, you want to go see a demon, go see Apophis. I'm sure he can sort you out, provided you live that long. But unless you want any Daimons, I recommend you bugger off."

"Bugger off? Do you mean piss o-"

"I most certainly do not."

"Oh. Right. Just wanted to be clear on that."

"Listen, I haven't got all day, mate."

"You do nothing except ferry souls across the river. You have all eternity to deal with me."

"What is it?"

"Oh, yeah, I kinda... refused to eat Priapus's Cucumbers. 'Cause apparently that's a thing."

"Why wouldn't it be? Besides, why are you here? I don't have time to listen to stories about his cucumbers."

"Well... he kinda got mad. I need to find a safe place. I was thinking maybe since gods can't enter each other's domains..."

"No good. He's already here."

"Seriously? The one place I think is safe?"

"Oh, yes. I don't know much about it to be honest. I know he's been here for a while, according to the boss. That's it."

"Well..."

"Listen. You're a good kid. Kyle... Chung, isn't it?"

"Cheng."

"Listen, Kyle. You're a good kid, and Priapus isn't such a nice bloke. I recommend you get out of here before Priapus finds you here. I don't want him showing you his _other_ cucumbers." Charon stops and laughs uproariously at his own joke, then realizing that his companion is not doing the same.

"You'll understand it when you're a bit older, kid. Google it in a couple years time. In the meantime, get out, and try to stop saying 'movies' instead of 'films'. It's really very annoying."

And with that, Kyle found himself alone by the side of the River Cocytus.

"Son of a Cyclops. Asshole stuck me on the other side."

And he waited for Charon to return and ferry him back to reality.


	20. Chapter 20

"Okay, what's the situation?" Mason hisses.

"Why do you need me to tell you that?" Peter hisses back.

"Because you're the smartest out of all three of us. Rather inevitably, I might add. I'm built for sleep, not battleplans. Besides, we can hardly ask Owen."

"Yeah, little bit busy here, guys," Owen chirps as the Minotaur flings him across the clearing again.

"Look, his sight and hearing are terrible."

"Owen's or the Minotaur's?"

"He relies solely on smell," as the creature sniffs at the ground.

"So we're whispering for no good reason?" Mason raises his voice suddenly but almost inaudibly due to a lack of the required anger. Such an exhausting emotion, Mason's not willing to get to active, but he's not waiting for confirmation any longer than he has to.

"Whisper as much as you like, he ain't going away until you cross a river or something," as the Minotaur charges, embedding its horns in the tree above the two, who scurry away.

"Right. So we got no plan, no escape and no backup," Mason runs through what he can remember of the emergency checklist. "Any weapons?"

"I got a sword. You got the bow?"

"Of course." The Minotaur finally manages to remove it horns from the bark.

"And I've got this stick!" chimes in Owen.

For a delirious moment, Owen wonders if the ensuing silence between the three of them means something along the lines of _Wow, Owen! That's genius! I wish I'd thought of it._ Then the silence is broken.

"Godsdammit, Owen, you're fifteen years old!"

"It's not like I wanna have to fight with a stick. If I had a sword right now, I'd be using it. But..." The monster turns to face the boys,

"This is why I hate Britain," sighed Peter, eliciting gasps from the two other boys. "Please tell me you have the spells working."

"Working on it!" replies Owen, fleeing from the beast, tapping his forearms to no avail.

"Better late than never," shrugs Mason, and the two turn to finally charge the oncoming threat.

The charge started well, but clearly it had peaked. Mason took the left arm, slashing wildly, with Peter on the right, practically sprinting, scrambling up the arm to the creature's head. The creature's response was inevitably to shake wildly, hoping to dislodge the small mound of human on its head. As Mason was knocked aside, groaning as he crashed into the ground and was propelled sharply back by the momentum, Peter held on for dear life. His teeth felt ready to shatter, his sword lay twenty feet away and his friends had either gone AWOL or were drifting in and out of consciousness. He couldn't hold on. His grip was loosening. Any second now he would -

He let go as a flood of pale blue light flooded through the clearing, and Owen stood up, triumphant, his mother's spell successful, the incantation written in blue letters swirling on his forearm.

"Oh yeah. Who's the best warrior here? Lemme hear you say it. I don't thin..." Owen rambled on. More trouble than he was worth, that boy.

 **A/N: Definitely feeling very British recently... couldn't resist making another British demigod. This may be the last oneshot for a while 'cause I'm working on something else for a bit. At least I've given you a warning now.**


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